


Doctor Stiles AU

by eeyore9990



Series: Doctor Stiles [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, But he plays one for his patients, Consent Issues, Doctor/Patient, Fetish, I HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO TAG THIS OKAY, M/M, Medical Kink, Multi, Second-Hand Embarrassment, Sterek is the main pairing, Stiles isn't really a doctor, Under-negotiated Kink, but there is implied (and a time stamp piece) other people, role play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 19:37:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6579661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeyore9990/pseuds/eeyore9990
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles runs a medical clinic out of his dorm room where he provides a safe place for people to indulge in medical fetish play.  Derek... isn't so great at reading the fine print.  Rather, Derek DOES NOT read the fine print because Derek is an idiot sometimes.</p>
<p>Please read the notes*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to lump all the bits of my Doctor Stiles universe into one fic (because some are super short) with the Stiles/Erica/Derek in its own time stamp separated from this for those who might be turned off by reading another person joining them. 
> 
> This is medical kink. Stiles is not an actual doctor, he's not even a med student. The implications here are that some people come for the orgasms and some people come for a sort of therapy to get over fear of doctors/medical settings. And Stiles makes enough money doing it that he can put food in his belly, heh.

Stiles straightened his lab coat, going to the door when he heard a hesitant knock. His new “patients” were usually like this: for all that they wanted to play, nerves sometimes got the better of even the most enthusiastic.

Opening the door, Stiles was already into his greeting when he stuttered a little over the patient’s name. “Derek” was fucking insanely gorgeous, holy shit.

Stiles enjoyed his side business, okay, and he did not discriminate with his customers. But some days, he got people across the threshold that made him feel bad for taking payment.

And then there was Derek, who made Stiles wonder if HE should be paying for the privilege of…

Stiles blinked and forced himself back into character. “Hi. Hello, sorry. Derek, isn’t it? Come right in.”

Derek sent him a narrow-eyed look through lashes so dark Maybelline should be asking him to model their product. And the eyes behind them, so pale, swirling with color, made Stiles want to weep for mere mortals.

“You’re Stilinski?”

“Call me Dr. Stiles,” Stiles said with a gentle smile, waiting for Derek to enter the exam room before he shut the door behind him. “All my patients do,” Stiles continued when Derek lifted an eyebrow at him. “Stilinski is a mouthful.” 

Stiles picked up the consent form he’d printed out, attached it to a clipboard, and offered it to Derek. “Just a formality,” he said, then frowned a little when Derek signed the bottom without reading the text.

Whatever, he was here on a referral from Erica, so Stiles let it go.

“What brings you here today?” Stiles asked, leaning against the exam table in the middle of the room.

“I have a tickle in my throat,” Derek said, frowning like he was annoyed, and okay, Stiles got it.

It was a bit too cheesy porno, but it was a good set up for patients to ask for what they wanted without breaking character. “Tickle in the throat” meant full exam with happy ending.

“Oh no,” Stiles murmured, putting on his best concerned expression. “And when was the last time you were in for a check up?”

“Uhh.” Derek’s eyes flickered around the room. “A year?” he asked, like he didn’t actually know and…

Whoa. A _year_ since he’d been sexually active? Stiles’ faith in humanity crumbled to dust.

“Okay, well, in that case,” he said, pushing away from the table and patting it. “I’m going to need you to take off everything below the waist and hop up here. We’ll do a full exam today to check for general health and wellness and then I’ll look at your throat.”

When Derek hesitated in standing, Stiles smiled again and slid the curtain closed, giving him privacy. 

“There’s a paper blanket on the bed. Just put that around yourself when you’re done.”

“…this napkin thing?” Derek asked after a few minutes of rustling. 

Stiles let out a little chuckle, almost dropping out of character. “Yes, sorry. A study a few years back found more patients reacted to the chemicals used to clean the old robes, so we switched to those.”

“Okay, well… I’m ready.” The “I guess” that came after was whispered and made Stiles soften into emotional mush, determined to make this scene perfect.

Opening the privacy curtain, he approached Derek and went through his warm up routine of listening to his heart and lungs and taking his pulse and blood pressure as Stiles talked about the Mets game that had played the previous evening.

When Derek was relaxed and answering him easily, Stiles smiled and stepped back. “Okay, hop down now and we’ll check for hernias and do an MPE.”

Derek shuffled off the exam table and looked at Stiles with his brows lifted in question. 

“Just turn around and lean over the table,” Stiles said with a kind smile, reaching for his box of gloves and the lube from the warmer.

When Derek was arranged to his satisfaction, Stiles pressed a hand to his back, feeling the muscles jump under his fingers.

Aww, poor skittish baby. 

“You’ll feel a touch and then a push. Just breathe out and relax,” he said, then gently slipped a lube-coated finger into Derek’s so-tight ass.

Derek let out a little noise, which just made Stiles rub a circle gently over his back. He murmured soothingly as he found Derek’s prostate and began to massage it, gently at first, then more firm when Derek didn’t flinch from the stimulation.

“What.” Derek gasped, then sort of collapsed to his elbows when Stiles moved the hand on his back to his balls, cupping and squeezing them gently, rolling them in his glove-covered fingers.

“Can I get you to turn your head and cough, please?” Stiles said, trying desperately to maintain that calm demeanor he was known for.

Derek turned his head, but just panted loudly as Stiles continued working over his prostate, his hips giving the tiniest twitch. “What are you doing?” he moaned, head thunking onto his arms as his hands grasped desperately at the paper covering the exam table.

“Manual prostate exam,” Stiles said easily, withdrawing his finger just a bit to slide another one in beside it. “Yours is a bit swollen. Have you had a prostate exam in the last five years?” he asked, moving just a bit backward as his own cock started filling at the sounds Derek was making.

“This?!” Derek whimpered. “Is a prostate exam?”

“Mmm,” Stiles hummed. “Prostate health is very important.” And then he continued his relentless massage until Derek came messily all over the floor. Stiles grinned when Derek went boneless. 

Damn, he loved his job.

“I… oh my god,” Derek whispered. “I’m so sorry.” He straightened on wobbly legs, cheeks flushed and lips bitten red. “I… I’m sorry.” He reached for his jeans, avoiding eye contact and…

Red alert. Alarms began blaring in Stiles’ head.

“Whoa,” he said, holding up a hand. A hand that Derek stared at in horror. “Okay, dude.” Stiles pulled the gloves off with a snap, noticing how Derek flinched at the sound. “I’m going to need you to tell me what’s wrong.”

Derek’s eyes finally met his and he gestured at the floor then at the inside-out gloves in Stiles’ hand. “I just… _came_! From a medical exam.”

Stiles blinked, shrugged, and blinked again. “Well, I mean. Yeah? That’s the point?”

Derek’s shoulders dropped from where they’d been up around his ears. “What. What do you mean ‘that’s the point.’” His voice was a low, menacing growl that made Stiles back up a step. “I came to get my sore throat checked out.”

“You…” Stiles’ eyes flared and his breathing went a little ragged and panicky. “But Erica–”

“What. About. Erica?”

“She referred you! And you said…” Stiles sat down with a thunk, words like _rape_ screaming through his head.

“I asked Erica for your number this morning,” Derek whispered. “She’s always talking about you. How you help her when she needs a hand. So I asked her for your number this morning, because… sore throat.”

“You thought I was a real doctor?” Stiles asked in horror before his own eyes narrowed. “Wait. Dude. There’s no way. This is a freaking _dorm room._ At Berkeley.”

Derek covered his face with his hands, his jeans still clutched in one of them so Stiles got a very… full view. When Stiles guiltily yanked his gaze away from Derek’s very lovely dick, it was to see Derek staring at him, still looking caught between anger and humiliation. 

“I thought you were a medical student.”

Stiles winced. “Ummm… thanks for the vote of confidence in my intelligence? But I’m an anthro student with a focus on mythology and folklore.”

Derek nodded, then cleared his throat. “Umm, I’m gonna…”

“Oh! Shit, of course.” Stiles backed away, yanking the curtain closed. But then, as always happened when he was in a situation out of his control, his mouth opened up. “It’s a fetish thing. A lot of people have bad experiences with the medical community” – he didn’t say _like Erica_ , but it was implied – “or they just like the role play aspect. So they set up an appointment and come play for an hour.”

“You only charge thirty bucks?” Derek muttered, but Stiles heard it.

“Erica’s a friend, you’re her friend… Plus, you know. Student discount.”

The curtain opened to show Derek standing there pushing his hands into his pockets. His eyes were firmly locked on the floor and his shoulders looked a bit stiff again, making Stiles’ stomach drop.

“I’m really sorry, dude,” Stiles said. “This has never–”

“No one’s ever,” Derek interrupted, then bit his lips closed.

“What?”

“I just… what you did? No one’s ever touched me like that. Before. It was… It was good.” His pretty eyes flicked up to Stiles, then back down again. 

All the tension Stiles had been holding in released all at once and he sagged, stumbling backward. “Holy shit. I mean. Yay? I’m glad you liked it?”

“Yeah. Um.” Derek’s ears went red and he ducked his head further. “I just. I know this is your job. But. Would you? Like coffee?”

“I’m totally refunding your deposit,” Stiles muttered, then lunged forward and placed his hands gently on Derek’s cheeks, leaning in to kiss the very corner of his mouth. “I would fucking love to get coffee with you.”

Derek groaned and grabbed Stiles’ waist, falling forward and burying his face in Stiles’ neck. “I may not be able to look you in the eye for a few weeks, just so you know,” he whispered, letting out a little huff of laughter.

Stiles grinned, relieved and elated and just generally overwhelmed with joy. He reached up, running his hands over Derek’s back, tilting his head to give Derek easier access to his chosen hiding place. “Will it make you feel better if you get to play doctor next time?”

“…maybe?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek's POV on the events of the first chapter (in present tense hah) plus a bit of their early relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember how I said we'd be switching tenses? Yeahhhhh.... I thought about rewriting this and changing the tense to past, but since it already exists on tumblr in this form, I decided against it.

Derek is a lot of things. He recently made a list. 

1\. He’s a bad friend. He knows this because it was his failing as a friend that led to the appallingly humiliating position he’d found himself in two days before. 

He loves Erica, and he’d literally give his life for her, but he _cannot_ listen to her talk about her sex life. It makes him wildly uncomfortable, okay? So while he knows she likes to talk about some guy named Dr. Stiles, he kind of learned to tune her out years ago, and he just… doesn’t know why she talks about him? And then she starts getting really serious with Boyd and her mentions of Dr. Stiles sort of fall to the wayside. 

Until one day he’s walking across campus and sees her basically take a flying leap at a guy. A guy who is not Boyd. And she wraps herself around this guy in a kind of strangling-looking hug. And the guy? Is so incredibly pretty. So, so pretty. Just because Derek’s only been in two relationships in his life – both with women – doesn’t mean he’s not very attracted to men. He is, he’s just… he’s uncomfortable with the dating scene and the club scene and the anything-other-than-hanging-out-with-his-friends scene. 

So when he questions Erica later about the very pretty boy she’d been wrapped around and finds out it’s Dr. Stiles, Derek files that information away. The guy is a doctor. Or something. Whatever, it’s not important. 

Until it is. 

Until Derek wakes up one morning with a sore throat and… 

2\. He’s a werewolf. He’s not supposed to have a sore throat. (And maybe it’s more of a tickle, but he’s deciding to err on the side of caution.) Ordinarily, he’d just snap a toe to kick-start his healing, but he’s reaching down to do so when he gets a sudden, vivid memory of a long, pale throat. 

And uh. Yeah, he should totally see a doctor. 

So Derek talks to Erica, who seems really incredibly excited that he’s going to the doctor – even if she’s trying to play it cool – and gets not only Dr Stiles’ number, but a personal referral which apparently gets him a same-day appointment. 

An appointment at a doctor’s office that’s inside one of the dorm rooms on campus. Derek isn’t an idiot, okay, but he’s heard Erica talk about this guy and how much he’s helped her and… well. 

3\. Derek can justify anything to himself when he wants something badly enough. Which is why he manages to convince himself that Dr. Stiles (Stilinski, apparently) is a med student funding his way through college by giving cheap medical attention to students. 

Even though there’s a free clinic on campus available to students, which Derek really doesn’t know much about because of item #2. 

So Derek goes to his appointment and… 

4\. Doesn’t bother to read the fine print; 

5\. Has no idea how often humans are supposed to go to the doctor – though, apparently, from the dismayed look on Dr. Stiles’ face when Derek says a year, that’s a bad guess; 

and 

6\. Bases all his medical knowledge on shows he’s seen on television. 

Oh, there’s also the fact that 

7\. Derek’s only ever had sex with two people in his life, both women, and both relationships were very vanilla. The most adventurous he ever got with regard to masturbation was purchasing a fleshlight… and he hated it, so he just went back to using his hand. If he’s feeling particularly frisky, he’ll give his balls a little fondle. 

He grew up a werewolf in a house filled with werewolves. His masturbatory practices were super quick and extremely quiet. 

So it’s no wonder he ends up coming messily all over the floor of Dr. Stiles’ dorm room/doctor’s office set up when Dr. Stiles slides a finger or two inside his previously untouched ass and starts doing things to the inside of him that light him up. 

He’s a werewolf and he’s unable to do anything but slump there and whine, taking it and biting his lip so he doesn’t beg for more. 

And it’s humiliating, it _is_ , but he also quickly realizes it’s not Dr. Stiles’ fault, and it’s not Erica’s fault, and really… well, no one’s really at fault, but if Derek were a little better at the whole human half of his existence, he’d probably have just used his connection with Erica to get an actual date with the pretty not-doctor instead of going through the whole drama of doctor’s visits. 

Of course, then he’d have had to wait that much longer to feel those fingers pressing firm and sure against his prostate, but… 

Yeah. 

The two highlights of the day are… 

8\. He found out orgasms work as well as broken toes to kick start his healing. No more sore throat! 

and 

9\. He somehow managed to score a date with Stiles, which was the whole point of the day, so maybe he’s actually really good at this whole being human thing. 

Okay, probably not. 

So Derek and Stiles have their coffee date, and Derek tells Stiles the whole story and in between his uncontrolled and unmuffled giggles, Stiles reaches over and winds _those fingers_ through Derek’s, holding his hand on the table and it’s… 

Derek likes it. Derek really likes the soft, romantic parts of dating. He likes building relationships. He likes hand holding, and walks on the beach and sitting with his arm around his significant other. He likes looking into their eyes – which he’s still having a bit of trouble with because he can’t help thinking back to _that thing that happened_. He likes leaning in close and listening as Stiles tells him every last thought in his head. 

He _really_ likes Stiles’ fingers, too, but he doesn’t necessarily know what to do with the deep, dark, burning feelings they inspire in him. His eyes get trapped on them every time he notices them, and he notices them _a lot_ because Stiles is one of those people that uses their hands for extravagant gestures at all times. He also taps his fingers on things, like his long thighs, his chin, the side of his neck. He points to things with them and he waves them in front of Derek’s face when he thinks Derek’s zoned out on him. 

He’s basically taunting Derek with those fingers without even realizing it because… 

10\. Derek is addicted to the feeling of Stiles’ fingers in his ass. 

And it’s just Stiles’ fingers, okay? He figured that out pretty quick when he got home from his not-appointment and started thinking about the amazing, mind-melting orgasm he had and went into his bedroom and tried to do it to himself. 

Didn’t work. He got a cramp in his wrist for his efforts. 

And he’s a werewolf. 

It doesn’t take much to make him break. Derek would like to think he’s got a little bit of self control, but Stiles manages to strip that from him by licking the butter from his movie theater popcorn off his fingers during the movie they go see for their second date. 

Derek has no idea what the movie was. He was watching Stiles’ fingers the whole time in the flickering light. 

Anyway. Fingers, butter, licking. That’s what it takes to turn Derek into a needy, whining, sobbing mess. 

He has a break down right there in the movie theater as the credits roll, begging Stiles a little desperately to please either stop torturing him or… 

“I don’t want you to think I’m objectifying you or, or _using_ you for your fingers, but Stiles.” He’s whining, he can _hear_ himself whining. It’s exactly as unattractive as it sounds. “I just, I need. I _need_ to feel them inside me again and you keep wiggling them and showing them to me and _licking them_ and I can’t. I just.” He puts his head in his hands with a tiny, broken sob, and his asshole clenches a little. 

When he looks up again, Stiles is staring at him, mouth dropped open as he absently moves his legs out of the way for the woman with the two pre-teen boys to shuffle past him, the woman biting her lip and sending half-horrified, half-amused glances his way. 

This is it. This is how he dies. 

But then Stiles snaps his mouth shut and grabs Derek, yanking him up out of his seat and out of the theater and they’re _running_ toward campus and Stiles’ dorm and they don’t stop for anything. 

Not. For. Anything. 

Stiles’ fingers shake a little when they finally get to his dorm, rattling the keys in his hand and he takes a minute to turn and look at Derek, stare at him really, and his eyes are a little dark and a little wild – wild like Derek’s feeling – and then he’s shoving the key in the lock and twisting it and… 

And they’re back in the doctor’s office. Because Stiles lives like this. 

Derek’s gut clenches and he starts squirming, but Stiles doesn’t really stop. Just pushes and shoves at Derek until he’s inside the room. And then he starts helping Derek undress and pushes him toward the exam table – 

“Do you sleep on–” 

“It’s really comfortable with your feet up in the stirrups,” Stiles mutters, helping Derek onto the padded table. “Good for your back too. Firm.” 

But whereas there’d been a paper thing on the bed the other day, now there’s sheets and blankets. They’re white and kinda soft and Derek didn’t even realize until his body is sliding over the top of them, but he’s totally naked. 

Naked. 

On a bed. 

His ass in the air while Stiles fumbles with things behind him. There’s no sound of latex this time, which makes the fire burning in Derek’s belly flame up just that much higher. He likes the gloves and wants to use them again sometime, but he doesn’t want this to be the whole doctor/patient thing Stiles does to help fund his education. 

(His boyfriend is a genius, honestly. What a great way to make money.) 

So anyway, yes, Derek is face down, ass up on the bed, and he’s really close to begging again – he _is_ begging, actually, just not with words. His fingers are clenching in the sheets and blankets, his ass is waving, his thighs are spread, there are little noises bursting from him with every breath and then… 

Then there’s the feeling of warm, wet fingers slipping between the furred cheeks of his ass. And they’re pushing nice and easy inside of him. 

Derek _keens_ , rocking backward, shaking the whole table, taking those fingers deep inside himself until he feels them start rubbing, sure and steady, against his prostate. 

He comes even faster this time. 

And when Stiles carefully eases him onto his back while he’s a panting, sweaty, wrecked mess, Derek can do nothing but spread his thighs even wider and groan for Stiles to cover his body and put the erection pushing so hot and hard against the front of his jeans to good use. 

He’s never been fucked before, but Derek’s got one more thing to add to the list and it’s not even about him. 

Stiles’ dick is even better than his fingers.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon said: I just finished the latest in your Doctor Stiles fics and, umm… Can we explore more of Nurse Derek? Can we talk more about the fact that Derek takes *such* good care of their ‘patients’ that Doctor Stiles wants to make sure that *Derek* is taken of as well? That after a long day of consultations, Stiles decides to make a house call? (Sorry this isn’t more explicit, I’m working on getting over my embarrassment of writing sexy times…)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you'd like to read the first installment of Nurse Derek, there will be a separate piece that starts with Stiles/Erica/Derek (and then other Sterek + pairings as I write them, ehehe). It's not necessary to read that to understand this, the main point is that Derek is fully supportive of Stiles' business to the point that he becomes Stiles' nurse.

Derek feels the firmly padded bed beneath him, hears the paper lining it crinkle with every minor shift in his body, with every breath.  It makes him focus on his breathing, makes him feel the drag of air into his lungs, expanding them, even as Stiles – _Doctor_  Stilinski – presses the cool, metal end of the stethoscope to his chest, his face blank as he listens to the pounding beat of Derek’s heart.

“Your pulse is a bit fast,” Dr. Stilinski murmurs, his eyebrows crinkling in the middle in concern as his gentle, brown eyes rise from where his fingers are pressing the now-warm metal to Derek’s chest to look at him.  “Are you nervous?”  


Derek feels his tongue dart out, swiping mindlessly over his too-dry lips, automatically beginning to shake his head before he stops and thinks about it.  Realizes that yeah, he _is_ , kinda.  Which is odd because he’s never really been nervous since that first exam, before he even started working in this clinic.

“A little?” he says, his voice coming out uncertain and small.  


Dr. Stilinski studies Derek for a moment before he deliberately presses his gloved fingers to Derek’s sternum, splaying them around the end of the stethoscope in a lopsided star pattern.  “Are my hands too cold?” he asks, and there’s no expectation in his face.  

He’s willing and ready to stop the exam right now, no questions asked.

Derek shakes his head, feels the way the hair on the back of his head scrapes along the paper, hears the _shushing_ noise it makes.  “No, they’re nice.  Very warm,” he adds and feels a blush rising into his cheeks because he just _flirted_ with the doctor.  

Ugh, he’s the worst sort of cliche; a nurse flirting with their partner doctor.  

_Get a grip, Hale_ , he thinks to himself, even as Dr. Stilinski wraps one long-fingered hand around his bicep, urging him to sit up.  He sits up without question, feels the bunching of his stomach muscles, the curving of his spine.  The paper sticks a little before peeling off his back.  


Dr. Stilinski’s fingers drag lightly over his ribs as he lines up the stethoscope to listen to Derek’s lungs, and a small shiver moves through him.

“Deep breath in,” Dr. Stilinski murmurs, and Derek’s done this from the other side so many times that he automatically breathes in slow and smooth, holding the breath – and the faint scent of Dr. Stilinski’s cologne – for a beat before he releases in a rush.  The room is so quiet, so still, that he hears how ragged it comes out.  


Derek bites his lip and glances down to where his hands are folded in his lap.  His forearms, thickly covered in dark hair, are prickled with goosebumps.  He presses his hands down, feels the skittering of pleasure that races up his spine from the pressure.  His dick is chubbing up under the thin paper blanket his hands are resting on and there’s nothing he can do about it but hope that the doctor doesn’t notice.

Not that anything really ever escapes Dr. Stilinski’s shrewd, knowledgeable gaze.

“Okay, Derek,” Dr. Stilinski says, patting Derek’s flank as he pulls the stethoscope from his ears and flips the whole thing around his neck before grabbing the retinoscope off the wall and flipping it on with his thumb.  “Just keep looking forward.”  His face comes right up to Derek’s as he looks into the other side of the retinoscope, close enough that Derek can feel Dr. Stilinski’s faint breaths on his cheek, smell the faint scent of peppermint from his breath mints.  


When Dr. Stilinski goes to look in Derek’s right eye, his hand comes up, resting lightly on Derek’s shoulder and another wave of goosebumps march across his skin.  His heart is racing now, making him thankful that Dr. Stilinski is not longer listening to the pulse of it.

He tries to swallow, but his throat is dry, the muscles working feebly even as his head goes light.  Oh… he’s stopped breathing.  Derek concentrates then, on breathing through his nose, tries to keep each inhale and exhale steady and even, but he can feel his nostrils flaring as he tries to get more of Dr. Stilinski’s scent into him.

He feels too warm and knows his cheeks are flushed.  Hopes that the light shining into his eyes keeps his pupils from giving away the arousal he’s feeling.  He bites his lip, fights to keep his eyes forward.  He can see, from the corner of his eye, the thick smudge of Dr. Stilinski’s lashes brushing his pale skin under the eye he has closed.  The moles on his skin are a mere blur this close, and the pert line of his nose is almost hidden by the fingers wrapped around the retinoscope.

“All right,” Dr. Stilinski finally says, pulling back and removing his hand from Derek’s shoulder as he puts the instrument back in its holder on the wall.  The place his hand had been resting feels too cold, empty and aching.  “Lie back while I get the stirrups.”  He looks at Derek then, his eyes twinkling with humor.  “My nurse usually does this part, so forgive me if it takes me a minute.”

Derek rolls his eyes and huffs out a puff of laughter even as he lays down, feeling the paper under his skin again, though its softer now, less crisp than it was when he’d originally stretched out over it.  “You were doing just fine before I came along, Dr. Stilinski.”

“I thought I told you to call me Dr. Stiles, _Nurse Hale.”_ His pointed look and raised eyebrows make Derek flush again, though he tries to hide it behind a scowl. 

“That’s all well and good for our patients,” Derek says gruffly, “but unlike some people, I do try to maintain a professional work environment.”  


Dr. Stilinski grabs his chest with a wince.  “Ouch, right in the heart.  Okay, heels up.”  He hooks his foot around the rolling stool and brings it over, settling on it easily and rolling between Derek’s splayed thighs, disappearing behind the curtain of the blanket that’s spread across Derek’s legs still.  There’s the sound of shuffling before a click and then the bed starts lowering, shaking faintly when Dr. Stilinski opens one of the drawers to pull out a warm packet of lube.

“You’re going to feel a touch,” Dr. Stilinski murmurs, all professional again.  His fingers lightly press between the cheeks of Derek’s ass.  “When I push in, just relax and breathe out.”  He pushes a finger in, humming before he says, “Okay, bear down for me.”  And then another finger is sliding in with the first, stretching Derek’s rim and rubbing along his passage.    


The fingers of Dr. Stilinski’s other hand begin to gently massage Derek’s balls, squeezing and pulling, even as he finds and begins to firmly rub over Derek’s prostate.

Derek’s fully hard now, knows he is even if he can’t see it – knows also that Dr. Stilinski _can._   He bites back a whine as Dr. Stilinski continues with the exam as if nothing were wrong, as if he can’t see how Derek’s hips are starting to hitch into the press of his fingers, into the grip around his balls.

Sweat beads up on Derek’s skin, drips onto the paper lining the bed and soaks it through until the paper rips under his restless shifting.  And still the exam goes on, relentless.  Derek blinks sweat from his eyes, fingers restlessly gripping the edges of the exam table, one pinky slotting into the space where the bed comes apart for moving.

Pleasure is singing through his body, his blood rushing through his veins so fast he swears he can feel it.   _Hear_  it, even.

When he hears his own breath break on a sob, he tries to cover it up with a desperate, needily asked, “Is everything okay?”

Dr. Stilinski’s fingers slow, pause.  Derek can _hear_  his tongue unclick from the roof of his mouth before he whispers huskily, “Everything looks fine.”

And then Derek sags to the exam table, knocking the damn blanket out of the way and onto the floor as Stiles surges up from the stool, sending it skittering backward too fast so that it tips over, banging into the wall.  

“God, Derek,” Stiles keens, “God.  I could barely keep it together.  You’re so–”  


Derek curls up, his abs bunching, pushes into the flex of Stiles’ fingers even as he reaches for Stiles, fingers grasping onto the starched white material of his lab coat.  He yanks, greedy for the feel of Stiles’ lips against his own.  His thighs shake from the sudden stretch, but he doesn’t pay that any attention, just licks deep into Stiles’ mouth and keeps yanking until Stiles’ fully clothed body is rubbing against any part of Derek’s that’s close enough.

“Fuck me,” Derek gasps between kisses.  “Please, Stiles, please.  I need–”  


The mechanical whine of the bed startles Derek, makes him pull back and blink to see that he’s going up.  His ass is already at the edge of the bed, but Stiles’ free hand – the one not focused on stretching Derek open – grabs his hip, yanking him down another inch until his thighs feel the stretch.  And then he fumbles at the front of his nicely-pressed trousers, lowering his zip and ripping the button entirely from the thick material to allow his hard, darkly flushed cock to spring free.

When the bed is the right height, Stiles spreads his fingers wide and is slipping the head of his cock into Derek before he fully pulls them out.  It feels… it feels more than amazing.  It’s a stretch that sparks pain and pleasure all over him, lighting up his skin until he feels too sensitive even for the brush of the paper under his ass, under his back.

Then Stiles’ hands are on him, grounding him, steadying him, before they sneak up his chest and start pinching and twisting at his nipples, making his skin feel like its going to fray apart with the stimulation.

He sobs, hips hitching desperately, feet restless in the stirrups, knees _shaking_  where they’re splayed apart.  He’s trying to grab for Stiles, but all he feels is the warm bunch of cloth under his palms, not the sticky-slick bare skin he so desperately craves.  

Stiles’ starched lab coat brushes the backs of his thighs, his shirt points, bunched up though they are, scrape along his balls and over the base of his dick, and Derek can’t think, can’t _breathe._

A hand grasps the back of his neck, lifts his head, pulls.  Nothing is real anymore except the full, thick push of Stiles’ cock, the fingers that are gripping him tight, the hot, humid rush of breath into his gasping mouth as a tongue skips over his lips and tangles with his own.

He feels outside of himself now, even as he’s never been more in tune with his body.  Derek hears himself keening, feels the rush of his blood, the prickling of his skin.  His balls draw up tight and close to his body, his cock thickens and his thighs try desperately to snap closed but are stopped by his feet in the stirrups.  He’s so open, so spread out and helpless.  The only skin he can feel is the cock in his ass and the tongue in his mouth – even Stiles’ hands are still covered by the impersonal rubber gloves.

It’s that thought that pushes him over the edge.

Derek drops back to the table, back bowing and hips surging up into the thrust of Stiles’ as his cock jerks and blurts out the first pulse of come.  With the second pulse, he feels Stiles jerk against him and looks up through too-bright eyes to see the way Stiles’ mouth has dropped open, his breath breaking on a little gasp of pleasure as his hips snap forward and go still even as his cock twitches in Derek’s ass.

“Oh fuck,” he hears even as he watches Stiles’ mouth shape the words.  He’s kind of lost, though, his brain offline.  He’s in this floaty zone where he can only _feel_ , feel the air move around his skin and the tug-pull of Stiles’ dick as he gently eases it from Derek’s ass.  “Your knot,” breathes through the room, the words too soft to worry about.   


And then Stiles’ mouth is on him, the heat and wet gently soothing the too-tight skin at the base of his cock.

Another pulse of come lands on Derek’s belly, hot on his skin.

Glove covered fingers slide back into his ass, pressing and rubbing once more, easily keeping him in that place where he’s nothing but sensation.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the tables are turned and Stiles gets a checkup of his own.

Stiles stumbles back to his dorm, bone tired and drooping with exhaustion, but also feeling a bit floaty from the elation of taking his final exam. Now all that's left of the semester is to crash for twelve hours and then move all his medical equipment out of his dorm room and into storage for the summer (and move his dorm furniture back in). 

Thankfully, he has Derek to help him _and_ Scott this time. Possibly even Erica and her muscley boyfriend, who, even if he isn’t a werewolf -- and Stiles doesn't know that he isn't -- looks like he could move a couch by himself. 

When he gets to the door of his room, keys already in hand, he's startled to see a note taped to the door – one he only puts out when he has an appointment. 

_Do Not Disturb. Knock –_

Over where the words ‘in an emergency’ would normally be, a sticky note has been laid on top, reading 'before entering’ in Derek’s spiky handwriting. 

Blinking in bemusement, Stiles knocks, only to have the door open almost immediately under his knuckles. Derek stands in the open doorway, Stiles’ lab coat stretched kind of deliciously across his chest and a bit of masking tape applied over where Dr. Stilinski had been embroidered onto the material. 

In sharpie marker, Derek had written 'Dr. Hale’ instead. 

A smile starts to bloom over Stiles’ face before he catches himself and forces it back. “Hi,” he says, and doesn’t even have to fake how breathless he sounds. “Sorry I’m late, I–” 

But Derek doesn’t let him finish, just waves off his excuse with an understanding smile and ushers Stiles inside. “It’s not a problem; my nurse told me your class might run late.” 

Stiles lets out a little laugh at that – normally _Derek_ is the nurse – but at Derek’s raised eyebrow, Stiles realizes he's breaking character. Again. “Oh, just,” he shrugs, searching for something to say to get this back on track. “I was congratulating myself on being done with exams on the way over here. Didn’t think about _this_ being my final exam of the semester.” 

Derek – _Dr. Hale_ – laughs good naturedly before gesturing to one of the empty chairs. “If you’ll put your things there and hop up on the table, we’ll get started.” 

Stiles slings his backpack off, feeling instantly lighter, then toes his shoes off as well before going to the exam table and hopping up. 

“I see you’re here because you’ve had some chest pains and a sore throat recently,” Dr. Hale murmurs questioningly as Stiles shifts on the paper, blinking in a bit of a daze as his mind instantly translates that and his body jolts with anticipation and the beginnings of arousal. 

“Umm,” he says, then clears his throat. “Yeah.” 

“Have you had a flu shot this year?” Dr. Hale asks, stepping between Stiles’ thighs and pressing his thumbs into the sides of Stiles’ throat, checking for swelling. 

Stiles jolts again, but this time it’s fear gripping him. Dr. Hale’s thumbs pause, then smooth down the midline of Stiles’ throat, skating over his bobbing Adam’s apple. 

“Are my fingers cold?” Dr. Hale asks softly. 

Stiles thinks about it, because it’s a good question. “A little chilly,” he says, and Dr. Hale drops his hands, stepping back and putting them into the pockets of his lab coat. 

Stiles breathes out shakily and meets Derek’s eyes. It’s up to him to break the scene if he wants to. Chilly means yellow… but in this environment, he’ll need to set the tone for the ensuing talk about what they’re doing. 

“Sorry, Dr. Hale,” he says, and Derek’s expression twitches from concerned boyfriend to concerned doctor. “I just… needles kinda scare me,” he says, spreading his fingers wide. 

Dr. Hale nods, eyes narrowing in thought. “I could do the flu shot before the rest of your exam,” he offers. “That’ll keep you from stressing over it. Or we could do it later.” His voice on that last part is all Derek, and it settles the twisting churn in Stiles’ belly. 

“Yeah,” he says around a flutter of butterflies. “Now is good.” 

Dr. Hale gives him a long look before nodding and pulling his hands out of his pockets. “Go ahead and get undressed while I gather the supplies,” he says, pulling the curtain. 

Stiles hurries to undress, stripping down completely before getting back up on the exam table to wait. As he does, he hears, “Is it just needles?” 

“What?” 

Dr. Hale opens the curtain, and the there’s a look in his eyes Stiles can’t interpret. “Are you afraid of other sharp things?” he clarifies. 

“Oh.” Stiles blinks, because that’s a seriously loaded question. He knows about werewolves and Derek knows he knows, but they _still_ haven’t talked about it. Stiles had Derek’s knot in his mouth, for fuck’s sake, and they _still haven’t talked about it._ “No,” he says, and shrugs. “I mean, hell, I’ve been impaled by a giant piece of glass and I still walk near windows.” He touches the faint scar over the left side of his chest. “You’d think that would have been the most traumatic part, but honestly I was fine 'til I got to the hospital and Dr. Geyer had to stitch me up. Scott – uh, my best friend, Scott McCall – had to hold me down. It was not a good day.” 

Dr. Hale sinks onto the rolling stool, blinking as his mouth works open and closed. And okay, Stiles probably shouldn’t dropped that particular bombshell in the middle of a scene, but he’s tired of Derek dancing around the subject. 

Dr. Hale clears his throat, nodding slowly. “Wow. Um, Beacon Hills. I’ve heard a lot of good things about… that hospital. The, uh. The doctors there.” 

Stiles snorts, rolling his eyes. The thinly-veiled reference to their pack was a bit heavy-handed. “Yeah, well. They’re just doctors, dude. Not superheroes.” 

Dr. Hale nods again, then stands back up, straightening his shoulders. Instead of going forward with their play, though, he hesitates, reaching a slightly-shaking hand toward Stiles and smoothing a finger over the scar on his chest. “They do good work,” he mutters gruffly. 

Stiles feels his cheeks go splotchy and mutters, “You’ve got really warm hands.” 

Dr. Hale’s lips twitch and he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a prepared needle. “Well, if that changes, let me know.” 

And just like that, the atmosphere changes, grows light as their play is resumed. 

Stiles’ throat closes up a little at the first brush of the plastic-tipped needle over his skin, so he tries to focus on something else. His eyes land on the hollow of Dr. Hale’s throat and he exhales, letting the tension in his body rush out with the breath. 

Dr. Hale smiles at him, dragging the needle all over his skin until Stiles isn’t twitching and jerking every time he moves it. “You’re doing really well,” Dr. Hale murmurs, a note of pride in his voice. 

“Thanks,” Stiles whispers back, feeling flush with accomplishment when Derek skims the needle over the back of his neck and he just sits there, utterly relaxed. 

“Okay, are you ready for the rest of your exam?” Dr. Hale asks, and there’s a sparkle in his eye when he adds, “I’m curious about those chest pains you’ve been having.” 

Stiles can barely hold back a laugh; Derek’s kind of a slut for his nipples.

**Author's Note:**

> Each chapter sort of stands alone, but they're all part of the same universe and I'm trying to keep them in chronological order. There are different POVs and each chapter may have been written in a different tense, so. Sorry for any whiplash you may feel.


End file.
